Outriders: Fall of Aurora

“Psst! Les, possible tangos, four o’clock!” John Lindsey whispered, gesturing with his mittened hand towards the hemlocks at the bottom of the ridge, far to the hunting party’s right.

Leslie Blackburn swung his wood-stock M1A rifle in that direction and peered through his scope. He counted eight—no, make that nine—humans, well bundled and heavily armed, making their way through the treeline.

“Are they militia? From the Dogwood safehouse, maybe” John asked. Though he could make out their basic forms, the distance was too much for him to identify the group with naked eye.

Leslie shook his head. Instinctively, his four companions pulled their weapons from their shoulders. Any group that big, that wasn’t a militia squad, was bound to be Outriders—bands of former safehouse members exiled for breaking various laws. Many had banded together, and the lawless marauders served to constantly antagonize all the communities.

“They have to be Outriders,” Leslie confirmed. “Nine, possibly more. But I’ve never seen that many in one group. Not this far north.” He snugged his fedora down over the white shemagh wrapped around his head and laid prone in the snow.

“Everybody keep a low profile. Let them pass. I’d rather not get into a fight with these numbers We still need to find some game and get back to Aurora safehouse in one piece. But just in case, John, be ready to suppress them.”

Easily the stoutest member of the Aurora safehouse, John had been trusted with their only machine gun, a Russian-built PKM. He set the weapon on its bipod, just to Leslie’s right.

The five men watched as the Outriders broke out of the treeline and formed a circle out in the open. Upon doing this, a tenth figure emerged from the woods, leading two more, who appeared to be bound.

“They’ve got prisoners,” Leslie muttered. “Dogwood militia by the looks of it. Brooks, what do you make of it?”

Lieutenant Avery Brooks shrugged as he watched through his binoculars.

“You’re the scout, Blackburn. You tell me.”

“Yeah. I’m the scout. I just lead hunting parties. You’re part of Aurora’s militia. You should be more familiar with your friends and foes.”

“I can tell you there must have been a huge fight. Dogwood never sends patrols smaller than a full dozen men,” Avery replied. “Not since the Second Freeze hit five years ago.”

Leslie nodded. That fateful day was all too recent in his memory. The first Great Freeze, in 2106, had been bad enough. Leslie was only fifteen at the time. And when the Earth tipped on its side and the North Pole pointed straight at the sun, his family had joined the millions of others attempting to flee north to escape the ice that swiftly buried everything south of the forty-third parallel. Though Leslie had been safely evacuated, his parents weren’t as lucky. Nor were countless others. The speed of the catastrophe doomed all but a fraction of them. Those that escaped, established “safehouses”, small communities built partially underground, scattered all across the little bit of Earth that, despite still being a snowy tundra, was still livable.

Twenty-five years later, a shift in the Earth’s orbit caused the glacier to expand, reaching as far as the forty-ninth parallel. With that second freeze, the habitable zone got all the colder, snow got all the deeper, and food became all the more scarce.

“Which drove the Outriders to become more aggressive,” Leslie muttered, “which caused most of the safehouses to increase their patrols.”

“Say what, Blackburn? Lieutenant Brooks peered at the scout through his mirrored ski goggles.

“Nothing, nothing. Just talking to myself.” Leslie jerked his head to the left, popping a cramp out of his neck. John nudged his side.

“Should we take them and release those two?”

Leslie shook his head. “Not just yet. I want to keep observing.” He settled his cheek back against the rifle’s stock and peered through his scope. One of the outriders was drawing a revolver on the prisoners.

“Oh damn! I think they’re about to execute the prisoners. Change of plans. Open on my shot!”

The scout’s aim rang true, and the would-be executioner crumpled to the ground. The remaining Outriders began firing in all directions, but high on the ridge, Leslie Blackburn’s small team quickly eliminated them.

“I’ll go extract the hostages,” Leslie announced, slinging his rifle on his back. “Luke, Richard, on me. John and Avery, cover us.”

Luke and Richard, both equipped with AK-47s, stood and jammed fresh magazines in their rifles. Together with Leslie, they navigated down the rocky slope and out towards the prisoners. Reaching them, Luke drew his hunting knife from his belt and slashed the ropes holding the two militia men.

“Oh thank goodness!” the older man exclaimed, massaging his wrists, “I was sure that was the end of us. Who are you men?”

“Leslie Blackburn, head scout from the Aurora community,” Leslie picked up two of the Outriders weapons and extended them to the militiamen. “And these are two of my best men, Luke Miller and Richard Brigham. I have two more covering us from the ridge. Who are you?”

“I’m Captain William Briggs,” the older man replied, “and this is Corporal Eddie Welsh. We’re from the Dogwood safehouse. Possibly all that’s left.”

“All that’s left?” Luke’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“W…we were attacked…two days ago…there had to be a few hundred…” Eddie stammered.

“Outriders?” Leslie demanded. The corporal shook his head.

“They were no marauders…they were military men…highly trained…well equipped.”

“Those of us that survived the first wave, all scattered,” Captain Briggs explained. “We knew we had to try and warn as many safehouses as we could. But these Outriders captured the two of us a few miles east of Dogwood. We’ve been pushing north ever since, trailing behind our new enemies.”

“We need to warn Aurora,” Leslie asserted. “Richard, signal John and Brooks to regroup. Everybody else, scavenge any useful supplies off the bodies, then we move out.”

Richard pulled a signal mirror from his pocket and flashed an ‘all clear’ to the men still on the ridge. Once they acknowledged with a signal of their own, he joined the looting, starting with the first man Leslie had dropped. He wrestled the man’s blood-stained backpack off of his corpse and dumped the contents in the snow.

“Les, come take a look at this,” he called.

Leslie sprinted over. Richard handed him a heart-shaped locket, no bigger than a quarter. The piece of jewelry was silver, on a silver chain, with a small pink tourmaline in the center.

“It looks just like Jacob’s, doesn’t it, Les?”

Leslie nodded. It was identical in every way. Jacob, a small eleven-year-old boy, was one of the few children in the Aurora safehouse. His parents had been victims of the Second Freeze, and he had worn his mother’s locket everywhere, ever since.

Leslie had actually grown quite fond of the boy, maybe because the apocalypse had orphaned both of them. But regardless of the reason, he had unofficially become Jacob’s guardian. And never once had he ever seen Jacob without the locket around his neck.

“What are the odds I’d ever see a second one?” Leslie softly chuckled. But turning the heart over, he inhaled sharply.

Samantha Kelley, 10/19/99

“We have to go! Now!” Leslie roared.

“What’s happening?” Lieutenant Brooks asked as he and John ran up.

Leslie held out the silver heart. “Aurora safehouse must have been attacked, even before Dogwood. So they…they’ve got to be headed to Bridgestone next! Luke, with me. The rest of you, get to Bridgestone and warn them.”

“And where do you think you’re going?” Brooks challenged.

“Back to Aurora, to look for survivors. And find Jacob!”

Leslie shouldered his backpack and rifle and plowed through the snow, eastbound towards the Aurora safehouse—or whatever would be left of it..

I don’t know if you are dead or still alive, Jacob. But I’m coming for you. And this is a promise: I will find you.